Survival Heat
by LovinNorman'sChestTatt
Summary: Sharee survives a game, then becomes Hoffman's assistant in 'saving' others. Problem is, they're becoming distractions for each other. Hoffman/OC. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

Her vision was blurry at first, but it began to clear as she blinked. She was in a room full of rusty objects. The smell of mold and mildew hung in the air. She didn't care to identify anything, because she was being held back. Something was binding her neck holding her upright so she couldn't move. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat as she began to instantly freak out. She could feel something sharp penetrating the skin of her neck and her instant reaction was to feel. Her neck was circled with a rusty, metal device and razors were protruding from it and cutting into her flesh. Painted on her arm was a black X on her wrist above her many scars and a new one that was freshly sewn shut. A small, blunt knife hung off of a small necklace around her neck. She screamed and cried out for help, thrashing, cutting into her skin, trying to get herself out of the situation when she heard something click and a television to her right showed white noise, followed by a demented looking puppet.

She instantly knew she was in a Jigsaw trap.

"Hello, Sharee." It said in a low voice, it's mouth moving to match the words. "I want to play a game. Up until now, you've felt neglected by your father as he pays attention to women more than he does to you. You've slit your wrists to watch the blood flow, hoping that he'll notice you. Today, you'll find out how fatal blood loss can be. The device that binds you is a one of a kind. Around your throat are a series of blades that will slowly inch their way into your skin, while the key to free yourself is hidden. To find it, you must use the knife around your neck. You have fourty-five seconds to unlock the device, and then you'll know the feeling of true blood loss. Remember, X marks the spot."

The television shut off and she heard something ticking. "Oh God." She said as she pulled the knife off of the necklace she wore. She'd have to cut into her wrist with a blunt knife to retrieve a key? Was it really worth it? Of course it was. She was only eighteen after all. She had lots to live for. The pressure began to build inside her as the clock ticked and time flew by. She now had thirty-two seconds and counting down. She held the knife to her wrist and pushed as hard as she could as she slid it across her skin. The skin broke and blood began dripping down her arm. She screamed as loud as she could to try and drown out the pain. She had slit her wrists before, but it never hurt like this. She could feel the neck device close in on her throat, causing blood to run in rivers down her chest and back. She ran the knife across her wrist again and again, trying to create an opening to search for the key.

She finally saw something silver glint under her skin and she threw the knife down onto the floor and used her fingers to dig into her flesh. A hoarse sound ripped her vocal cords to shreds as pain flared throughout her arm. Her fingers pushed under her skin and finally gripped the key. It was hard to remove because it was slippery with blood, but she managed to pull it out. Blood was dripping on the floor, making a splattering sound as it poured out of her wrist. The neck device moved again, chocking off her air supply and the razors digging in more. There were seven seconds left on the clock as she stuck the key into the rusty padlock of the device, but she was having trouble because of the blood.

_Six_. The padlock snapped open, but it was hard to remove from the device. Sharee instantly began to freak out and jiggled the lock, trying to force it free.

_Four_. It finally came off, and she pulled the blades from her flesh, screaming throughout the entire thing. It was excruciatingly painful, but she finally managed to pull herself free and fell to the floor just seconds before the device snapped closed where her neck would have been. Her wrist was still dripping blood as she laid in a puddle of red.

A door opened, reavealing the puppet she saw on the television on a tricycle. The pedels creaked as it slowly rode into the room. "Congratulations, Sharee." It said. "You have survived. You are free to go. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive, but not you. Not anymore." Then, it backed out of the room, leaving the door open for her to leave. Sharee forced herself to get up and run, nearly slipping from the blood on the floor. She ran through an old hallway, ignoring her surroundings and searching for a door. When she found one, she pushed it open and was nearlly blinded from the sunlight. She tried to cry out for help, but she had lost her ability to speak as her legs and body shut down on her. The last thing she saw before she passed out was people running in her direction.

* * *

"Hello, Sharee." A man sat in front of her at an interrogation table. Sharee Morris's wrist was wrapped in white, fresh gauze, as was her neck. She was feeling drained from blood loss, but she hadn't been home to rest. A stranger had taken her to the hospital and police had picked her up from the there to get her statement. "I'm Detective Mark Hoffman. Your statement will be recorded for investigation. Can you tell me what happened?" He was in his mid-thirties with dark hair and a large build, wearing a suit and tie that Sharee guessed was brand new.

She, however, looked like shit. Her blonde hair was matted and had blood in spots here and there. She hadn't showered in almost twenty-four hours, her clothes were covered in dried blood, her throat was raw and she felt like she would pass out from sleep deprovation at any minute. "I had just came home from a friend's house." Her voice was hoarse from screaming. "I came in the door and went to get a shower, but when I went to the bathroom, something was waiting for me in there." She shuddered at the memory of someone attacking her. "I woke up in that room with that thing around my neck..." She trailed off, not wanting to tell anymore of the story. "Please," she whispered. "I just want to go home."

"Alright." Detective Hoffman said. "I'll have an officer drive you home."

"Thank you." She said, standing and preparing to walk out of the interrogation room.

The drive home was short, but it felt like it was a million years long. Her thoughts were racing about what had happened. Why would someone do that to her? How could anyone possibly know about her wrists when she hid it from everyone? When they got to her house, she thanked the officer for driving her home and walked to her front door. She watched the officer drive away before she unlocked her door.

Sharee let herself inside, glad that her house key was still in her pocket. She instantly felt safe in the comfort of her own home as she prepared to flop down on her bed. Walking into the kitchen, she saw a note on the counter. "Gone out on a date. Don't wait up. Dinner is in the fridge. -Dad." She rolled her eyes after she read it. Sharee didn't feel like eating anything. Her throat throbbed as did her wrist. The only thing she wanted to do was take a pain pill and go to sleep. Warily, she walked to her room, ready for anyone to pop out at her at any given moment. She gasped as she opened the door to her room. Detective Hoffman was sitting on her bed. "Sharee, do not be afraid. I want to make an offer to you."


	2. Chapter 2

Sharee just stood there in shock. An offer? She'd had enough drama to last her a lifetime in less than twelve hours. She didn't know what to say to the handsome detective as he sat there, just looking at her, waiting for a reply. He was still wearing the same suit that she had saw him last. How had he gotten to her home before she did? She didn't even see his car parked out front. As nervous as she was, she said the first question that popped into her head. "What offer?"

He stood up and walked over to her, his steps making soft sounds on her wooden floor. "You survived, so that means that you must be capable of many things." He paused and stood in front of her. His breath was warm on her skin as he looked down at her, considering he was taller than she was. She didn't look up at him as he continued. "Today, you were tested on your ability to survive. You've heard of John Kramer and Amanda Young, yes?" She nodded slowly. "He picked you before today, telling me that he knew you were capable of passing his test and capable of doing things that Amanda wouldn't. Now, I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to think hard on it." He put his finger under her chin and made her look up at him. "Will you help me?"

"H-help you with what?" Her voice was shaky as they looked into each other's eyes. She'd never been this close to a handsome stranger before. Then again, Detective Hoffman wasn't a stranger anymore. Sure, she'd been even closer to men. She definately wasn't a virgin, but something about being close to Mark Hoffman made her skin tingle.

"Sharee, were you saved today?" Well, this man didn't beat around the bush. Of course she was saved. She would have died if she didn't set herself free. Hoffman's hand closed around her injured wrist. "Were you reminded that your life is important? Will you look at your wrist and be disgusted by what you've done to yourself?" He had an excellent point. Jigsaw had saved her. If she had continued to slit her wrists, she could have easily killed herself at any point. She looked at her paining wrist that Hoffman was holding and shivered. She would be reminded of the horrible pain every time she looked at it.

Now, Hoffman was offering her a chance to save others. Would he help her do it? What would her part be? Why was she picked? The questions raced through her mind. "What if I don't?"

"I never said you were being forced." He told her. "I'm simply saying that someone of high trust recommended you, and I'd be very disappointed if you declined my offer."

"Will you kill me if I say no?"

He smiled. "No. I'm not a murderer. But you will be under oath to forget this conversation and what you know about me."

Sharee took a deep breath, pondering over her choices. She could help save people, or she could sit back and watch it all happen. What would she tell her father? Whatever, like he would care. This was a chance for her to actually do something right; to help people make better choices with themselves. And Hoffman would help her through the whole thing. She took another breath and took his hand. "Yes. I'll help you."

He smiled, something that looked great on him. "Are you sure?" She nodded. "Then there are things that you need to know." He began circling her, his coat grazing her body. "You will give yourself to me." He leaned his head down to her ear. "Every cell in your body. Is that understood?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"The scars on your wrists are from another life. You will start over. Now that I own you, you will never harm yourself again. There is no turning back, Sharee, I trust you know that."

Sharee swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat. "Yeah, I got it."

"Good," he said, pulling a yellow envelope out of his jacket. "You'll help me with this."

Sharee took the envelope and opened it, pulling out a paper with a man's picture, name and address. "Art Blanc?"

He nodded. "You'll take him to this address." He handed her a piece of paper. "Meet me there at midnight, Sharee, and do not let anyone see you." He kissed her cheek and walked out of her bedroom. She stood frozen to her floor and poured the remaining contents out of the envelope and into her hand. It was a syringe that was capped and filled with green liquid. The address that he had given her was the town's mosoleum. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

She shook the thought from her head and sighed. It was around ten at night, so she figured she'd go get her target, bring him to Hoffman and then sleep. Jeez, it sounded so easy when she thought about it. So, what was she supposed to do? Stick the guy with the syringe and then drag him to the mosoleum? Sharee breathed another sigh and then grabbed her car keys and walked out the door.

Surprisingly, Art Blanc didn't live that far from her, so it wasn't that long of a drive. A thought crossed her mind as she pulled into Art's driveway. How was she supposed to conceal her identity? She was attacked by a person in a pig mask, which she didn't have. She'd have to pull the 'good looking girl who's car just broke down' card.

Syringe in hand, she got out of her car and checked around. There were no lights on at all in that neighborhood. Not even Art Blanc's. Everyone would be sleeping at that time of night, so she guessed that was a good thing. At least she wouldn't be seen. Sharee knocked on the door, cautiously looking around and nervously tapping her foot.

A man that resembled the photo from the envelope answered the door. "What the fuck are you knockin' on my door so late for?" He said as he rubbed his eyes, then he looked up and seen Sharee. "Oh, sorry miss. I was expecting someone else. What can I do for you?"

Sharee put on a panicked look. "I'm sorry to bother you this late, sir, but my car broke down and my cell phone is dead and my father is on a business trip. I just..." She exhaled to look frustrated. "I need to use the phone, if that's alright. I'm sorry if I woke you and your wife up."

"No need to apologize, ma'am. No one lives here but me anyway."

_Good,_ she thought. _I don't have to worry about being seen._ "Still..."

"It's fine." He waved a hand with a smile and turned around, only to have Sharee stick the syringe in his back and force it's contents into his system. She smiled to herself, but frowned when she found out how heavy Art was.

"Fuck." She said under her breath as she hung her head. No wonder Hoffman had given her two hours. It'd take her forever to drag this guy out to her car. "Fuck!" She said again, and then put her arms under his armpits to drag him outside, praying that she wouldn't be seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Sweat coated her skin, dripping down her back and forehead as she dragged Art Blanc into the old, barely used mosoleum. Her back hurt from bending, her arms hurt from Art's weight, her feet hurt from slipping every once and a while. If she had to do this all the time, she'd probably be dead. Either that, or she'd have to bulk up. She didn't know at the moment, but she'd have to find out a way to make these jobs a lot easier before another came up. It was twenty minutes until midnight and she felt good that she was early. That meant that Hoffman would be happy, and if Hoffman was happy, that meant she did the job right and there would be more.

She pushed the door open with her behind, struggling to drag Art over the steps. "Fuck! I've _got _to give you diet suggestions." Sharee grunted once more before yanking him through the door. Her wrist was burning in an excrutiating pain as Art's weight threatened to pull her arms out of socket. Behind her, she could hear someone chuckling. She turned around, dropping Art on the floor. "You owe me, Hoffman."

"You did great, Sharee." He was sewing another man's eyes shut with a thick thread. "Now, see that thing at the end of this chain? Put it around his neck and lock the padlock." He looked up and saw her worried look. "No, it's not what you had." She dragged Art closer towards the chain and locked the device around his neck. Some thread and a rounded needle landed beside her. "Now, sew his mouth shut and then we'll be done."

Sharee nodded, taking the needle and thread and pushing it through the skin on Art's upper lip and trailing it down towards the bottom lip. She was partly disgusted, because she'd never sewn someone's skin before, and partly confused because she'd never sewn period. "What do we do when we're done?"

"We wait." He said as he kneeled down beside her. She looked up and saw that he was wearing jeans and a regular tee shirt and his hair was messed up. Sharee thought he looked even more attractive than he did in a suit, which, in her eyes, was hard to beat. "I'm going out to my car. I'll be back in a second."

She nodded while she bit the thread and tied it. As he got up to walk away, she noticed he was carrying something. It was a black cloak and a pig mask.

"You bastard!" She forgot what she was doing and ran and tackled Hoffman. Her weight hit him and pushed him hard against the wall, knocking him to the floor. Sharee straddled him and started punching him. "You stuck me with a fucking needle to put me in a death trap? I can't believe you!"

He caught her next swing, surprising her and flipping them over to where she was underneath him with her hands pinned above her head. "We've already discussed this, Sharee! You even said that you were fucking saved. Now, don't fuck this up!"

"Oh fuck you, Hoffman," she said. "What about us, huh? How do we benefit out of this?"

"We don't." He said, breathing heavily. His hot breath rolled across her skin as she tried to wriggle out of his grip. A growl exited his throat when she accidentally rubbed up against him. "Stop fucking moving."

She exhaled and wriggled harder. "Fuck you."

The only way he knew how to make her shut up and stop moving was to kiss her, and he did. Almost instantly, she relaxed and stopped moving completely. Their tongues tangled together and their teeth clashed. Moans were leaving Sharee's lips unwillingly as Hoffman thrusted against her. _What the fuck are you doing? _He asked himself. _She's half your age! Oh God, but her kisses are amazing. John would kill you if he knew about this. But John told you that he was going to die. Damn it, just shut the fuck up and kiss her. She's enjoying it, you're enjoying it. Get over it. _Almost on instinct, he pulled away, almost regretting what he had just done with Sharee. "We have to go," he simply said. "They'll be waking up soon and we don't want to be here when they do."

Sharee was breathless as she lay underneath him. He kissed her and then wanted to leave? Was he serious? "Uh, yeah," she said. "You're right. Let's go." He got up and pulled her up with him. Sharee picked up the remaining thread, needle, erased any evidence that she was there, and then followed Hoffman out the door. "So, what do we do now?"

He got into his car, giving her one last glance before starting up the engine. "We wait," he repeated his statement from earlier. "You'll be staying with me for two weeks, so go home, pack your bags and I'll pick you up in an hour."

"Are you serious? What am I supposed to tell my dad? That I'm staying with a friend for a couple weeks?"

He sighed. "Our next assignment is underway, John wants to meet you and you're obligated to stay close. Tell him whatever you want."

"Fuck." She hung her head and gave him the needle and thread. "Fine, but I'm getting twenty-four hours of sleep when I get there. Agreed?"

"Whatever." He waved a hand and then held up a finger. "One hour, Sharee."

She nodded, then got into her car and started her drive home. The entire way, she couldn't get her mind off of Mark Hoffman. When he kissed her, it was like her mind and body shut down. She didn't know what to do. She shook her head. _He's almost twice your age. Fucking jailbait. But then again, you _are_ eighteen. _But she didn't care, and neither did he, apparently. Her lips curved into an unknowing smile as she pulled into her driveway. Christ, she'd be staying with Hoffman for two weeks? Would she be able to do it without tackling him and kissing him again? After all, he was able to use his lips in a fantastic ways. She could swear that if she was standing when he kissed her, her knees would give out on her.

She tip-toed inside, trying to avoid her father at the moment. But, the stars weren't in her favor. "Where have you been?" he asked. "I tried to call you, but you didn't answer."

"I was out at a friend's house." She was trying to make up excuses for the next two weeks, and then it hit her. "You see, Angel's mom invited me on vacation with them, so I was getting details so I could ask you about it."

"Uh huh," he said. "And where is this vacation taking place?"

"Puerto Rico," she said on instinct. "We're flying out tomorrow on a five o'clock flight, so I need to hurry and pack if it's okay with you. We'll be back in two weeks."

"Hmm, alright." He dug into his pocket, and then handed her a wad of bills. "Take this." When she didn't reach out, he shook it towards her. "Don't ask where I got it, just take it. It's almost a thousand dollars."

"Are you serious?" He simply nodded in reply. "Uh, thanks. I have to pack. I'll see you!"

He nodded in farewell and then retreated to his bedroom, where more than likely there was a woman in his bed. Her father just gave her a thousand dollars and didn't even notice her wrist or neck? Yeah, he didn't care. She just threw clothes into a suitcase, not really caring what was being put in it. She'd figure it out when she wasn't so pissed off. She zipped up the bag after throwing her toothbrush and toothpaste in and stalked out of the house, waiting for Mark to pull up and take her away.

His car finally pulled up, after five minutes of Sharee waiting, and stopped in front of her. The window rolled down, revealing Mark smoking a cigarette. "Get in."

"No need to be so pushy about it," she chuckled as she tossed her suitcase into his car and got in the front seat. "So, I told him that I was going to Puerto Rico with Angel."

"Angel?"

"An old friend." She told him, then yawned. And before she knew it, she was asleep in the passenger seat.


End file.
